


Art Therapy and Chicken Fried Lobster

by FirefliesFlash



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Art, Family, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirefliesFlash/pseuds/FirefliesFlash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contains spoilers for 9X17 "Persuasion". Reid goes to visit his mother about a month after the case is solved.  One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art Therapy and Chicken Fried Lobster

Dr. Spencer Reid stepped out of the airport terminal, his ever-present messenger bag slung across his thin body. He headed towards the baggage claim area to retrieve his suitcase before leaving the airport. He hadn’t been home—to his childhood home—in nearly a month. The last time he had been to Las Vegas was for a case involving homeless people who lived in the flood tunnels underground. He had tried to visit his mother during the case and take her to Binion’s Ranch Steak House for some chicken fried lobster, but she had gone on a supervised visit to the Grand Canyon with a group of people from Bennington. She even rode a mule! She didn’t write him daily anymore. He told J.J. that he felt like a parent whose child had grown up and didn’t need him, but he knew that this was a great sign. She was getting better.

  
One of the reasons he wanted to visit his mom was to apologize for not writing her as often as he would have liked. After Maeve’s death, he had trouble writing his mother because he was so grief-stricken. He had told her about Maeve, but he just mentioned that she was a friend and never mentioned her name. After the team discovered they were being stalked by John Curtis otherwise known as the Replicator, he quit writing her altogether. He didn’t want Curtis to find out about his mother and potentially harm her. When he managed to write her again, he had fifty-five letters to respond to. She never questioned why he didn’t write her.

He stepped out of the airport and hailed a taxi. He rocked back and forth on his heels impatiently while he waited.

“Where to, sir?” the taxi driver asked.

“The Plaza please,” he answered, slipping into the backseat and pulling his luggage in behind him.

He rode silently all the way to the hotel. He paid the driver for the fare and stepped into the hotel to check in. After he checked in and had unpacked his belongings, he called Bennington to see if it was a good day to visit his mother.

“Bennington Sanitarium,” a bored female voice answered.

“Hi. I’m Spencer Reid. I am just checking to see how my mother, Diana Reid, is doing today. I was planning on coming for a visit and possibly take her out to dinner this afternoon.”

“Yes sir, Dr. Reid. I’ll put you on the phone with her psychiatrist.”

“Thank you.”

“Uh-huh.” He waited a few moments before her psychiatrist came on the line.

“Hello, Dr. Brown speaking,” a man stated. “What can I help you with today?”

“Hi, Dr. Brown. I’m Spencer Reid, Diana Reid’s son. How is she today?”

“She’s doing quite well, Spencer. The new medication seems to be helping her.”

“Good. I’m coming to see her in just a few minutes.”

“Oh, she’ll be so glad to know you’re coming. She talks about you all the time.” Spencer smiled. His mother tended to brag on his accomplishments quite a bit. 

“Don’t tell her! I want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh okay. I’ll see you in a few minutes, Dr. Reid.”

“Thanks, sir.” He pressed the “End” button on his phone and stepped into the bathroom to attempt to do something to his unruly hair. He knew his mother would have something to say about his hair. She always did. 

He placed his phone into his messenger bag and stepped outside his room. He hailed another taxi from outside the lobby of the hotel, which took him away from the bright lights of the Strip to Bennington. He pressed a four digit code into the keypad outside the building that unlocked the door for him. He started down the long narrow hall, his shoes making clicking noises on the green and white tiles. His mother was in the large day room, reading a book. He stood there for a few moments, his lanky frame casting a shadow over her. She looked up from her book, her face breaking out in an elated smile.

“Spencer!” she exclaimed. “Baby! What are you doing here?” She jumped up from a green leather chair and went to hug him. “You’re too thin.” She crinkled her nose, taking in his lean figure. “You drink too much coffee. That’s why you’re so thin. You need to eat better.”

“Yes Mom,” he replied with a smirk. “Thank you for the sculpture of the Grand Canyon. Did you really ride a mule?”

“I did, Spencer! Can you believe it?”

“Was it fun?”

“Yes, surprisingly. Although the thing smelled like an old stable. And you know I’m absolutely terrified of heights. What are you doing to your hair?” She touched one of the strands on his head lightly.

“Um, it’s not that bad is it?” he asked, nervously trying to smooth it down.

“Eh,” she answered, crinkling her nose again. “It’s okay. So tell me baby, how are you? I’m sorry I missed your last visit. Here. Come sit.” She patted the green leather ottoman in front of her.

“I’m fine. What have you been doing lately?”

“Well, I’ve been conducting some lectures here. These people think Fifty Shades of Grey is an example of fine literature. They have no taste for the classics.” Spencer chuckled slightly. Garcia and J.J. had both read Fifty Shades of Grey and took turns reading excerpts to each other over lunch. When he stepped into Garcia’s office one afternoon for a piece of candy and overheard them sharing the latest naughty excerpt, he flushed red and left the room.

“What authors have you lectured on?” he asked.

“Proust, Nietzsche, Chaucer, just to name a few.”

“What about Margery Kemp?”

“Of course.” A plump nurse walked by with his mother’s evening medication.

“Miss Diana?” the nurse asked. “It’s time for your meds. Oh! Is this your son? The doctor?”

“Yes, Meagan, he is.” The nurse handed Diana her medication and a plastic cup of water.

“Nice to meet you Dr. Reid, I’m Meagan Winters. Your mother is such a sweet lady and such a talented artist. Has she shown you her work?"

“No,” he stated, furrowing his eyebrows, perplexed. "She didn't."

“She’s been attending art therapy and music therapy twice a week, along with her group therapy twice a week. She has painted some beautiful scenes. Miss Diana, why don't you show Spencer your work?" Diana looked hesitantly from Spencer to Meagan.

“Oh, I don’t know," she stated, wringing her hands. "They're not that good, Spencer."

“I’m sure they’re wonderful, Mom.”

“Oh they are!” Meagan exclaimed. “She’s even sold a couple of her paintings to people in the community.”

“Mom! Why haven’t you told me this?”

“It’s not that important, Spencer. I’m telling you, they aren’t that wonderful.” She reluctantly led them to her room, where dozens of canvases were lying on the floor or hanging on the wall. She had one giant canvas standing on an easel, half finished. The one that caught Spencer’s eye was in the far right corner of the room, hanging on the wall. It was a painting of a small boy glasses covering most of his face, huddled over a chess board. The boy appeared to be deep in concentration, strategically planning his next move.

“Mom, is this…me?” he asked, stepping around the canvases on the floor to the painting in the back of the room.

“Yes baby.” He felt his eyes misting a bit, overcome with emotion. “There’s this one too.” She pointed to a painting of a small boy in the middle of the desert; his arms spread wide, the sun setting behind him.

“This is me too?" he asked.

“Yeah. There are a couple of nature scenes and still lifes I was required to paint, but they asked me to paint my proudest accomplishment. And I immediately thought of you.”

“Me?” he asked, sniffling.

“Yes. I went off of my medication for nearly a year when I became pregnant with you. And I know all mothers say their babies are special, but honey, when I first held you in my arms, I knew you were destined for great things. I just had a feeling. You’ve always been exceptional, Spencer and you make me so proud every day.”

“Mom,” he choked at a loss for words. Diana pulled her son close to her, wrapping him in a motherly embrace.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Mom.”


End file.
